Christmas at Twilight

by Lori Wilde

  After all the guests arrived, the older women migrated to the kitchen, leaving the younger ones seated around the living room. Meredith found herself tucked into the corner of an oversized leather sectional with Emma on her left side, Flynn on her right. Sarah sat next to Flynn. On the other side of Emma was florist Caitlyn Garza. At one point, Emma had whispered to her that Caitlyn was married to Hutch’s best friend, and he was a former Iraq war veteran who’d lost his left hand to an IED.

  Emma tracked down a corkscrew and opened several bottles of wine—Chardonnay, Cabernet, Riesling, and Pinot Noir.

  “What do you want to drink?” Emma asked Meredith.

  “I’m a lightweight in the wine department,” she admitted.

  “You’ll love the Riesling then. It’s light and sweet.” Emma passed her a glass half filled with white wine.

  The women loaded down red plastic plates with goodies—a variety of cheeses, specialty crackers, sliced fruits, crudités, chips, dips, and cookies. Acres and acres of them. Spice cookies and peppermint cookies. Thumbprint cookies topped with maraschino cherries. Pecan sandies and red velvet cheesecake cookies. Butterscotch haystacks and Russian tea cookies. Gingerbread people and lime angel wings. Shortbread cookies and walnut crescents and the quintessential sugar cookies topped with butter cream frosting. Kimmie and Ben were going to love the leftovers she brought home.

  Although she tried not to overindulge in sweets, Meredith was something of a cookie-aholic and she couldn’t make up her mind about which ones to choose. So she got one of each. She might regret the hangover in the morning, but for tonight, she was going to enjoy this small oasis of community, neighborliness, and kinship in the desert of life as a fugitive.

  Thin ice. Where you’re skating the ice is thin as tissue paper.

  Livewire Emma leaned in close once everyone had filled her plate and found a place to perch. “We’re dying to know what’s going on over at the Hutchinson house. You and Hutch are living together?”

  She hadn’t expected the diminutive redhead to be so direct. “No,” Meredith denied. “Well, yes. But it’s not like that. I’m just renting the upper floor.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean you were sleeping with him.” Emma laughed. “I mean he’s only been home, what, a couple of days? Unless you’re a fast mover. Are you a fast mover, Jane? But Hutch is one of the most eligible bachelors in Twilight. All the single gals in town are going to want to know if you have designs on him.”

  “Certainly not.” Meredith put a little bristle in her voice. Boundaries. Boundaries were important. Especially when she was caught up in a group, Meredith tended to go along with the flow. She’d never been a boat rocker. Well, until Sloane had forced her into the role. He’d toughened her up, she had to give him that, the sociopathic bastard.

  “Why not?” Emma asked. “Hutch is hot as a firecracker and such a wonderful guy. The best of the best. Top of the heap with our husbands.” She winked at her friends. “Right, girls?”

  A murmur of confirmation rippled around the room.

  “Hutch is so much fun, but at the same time he’s so practical and down-to-earth,” Flynn said. “It’s a rare combination.”

  Meredith shifted on the couch, put the Russian tea cookie she had in her hand back on her plate. Powdered sugar dusted her fingers and she sat there rubbing her fingertips together, trying to get it all off. “I have a son.”

  “A son who needs a daddy.”

  “Emma,” Sarah cautioned. “You’re making Jane uncomfortable.”

  Emma looked crestfallen. “Goodness. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that we all love Hutch so much and want to see him happy.”

  Every head bobbed in agreement.

  “When the building on the square that housed Jesse’s motorcycle shop and my Yarn Barn burned down, Hutch started the grassroots fund-raiser that helped us rebuild,” Flynn said.

  “Get this.” Emma laid a hand on Meredith’s shoulder. “When my husband Sam’s younger brother, Joe—he and Hutch were best friends in grade school—got diagnosed with Hodgkins and lost his hair from chemotherapy, Hutch shaved his head in solidarity.”

  “He once saved a young boy from drowning in the marina,” Sarah said. “Good Morning Texas did a story on him.”

  One by one, they told their Hutch stories. Whenever a buddy got his heart broken, Hutch was the first to take him out for a night on the town. He attended the weddings, funerals, and birthdays of family, friends, and neighbors. He loved pulling good-natured practical jokes. He was the go-to guy if you needed help moving or painting your new crib.

  Meredith was surprised by some of their descriptions of him. Not the brave and noble parts of Hutch, but the carefree, fun-loving parts. What they described as a playful nature must be buried underneath pain and grief, although she had seen glimpses of it in his interactions with the children. The war had clearly changed him. The fact that he could not speak amplified the differences.

  “What happened to him in the Middle East?” she asked.

  Everyone got quiet.

  “His entire team lost their life in a black ops mission,” Flynn said. “That’s really all we know. Their mission was highly classified and the military managed to keep the media in the dark.”

  “We wouldn’t even know that much if my husband hadn’t heard about it through secret sources.” Caitlyn Garza spoke for the first time. She smelled faintly of roses, and there was a quiet tranquillity to the florist that appealed to Meredith. It wasn’t shyness, as with Sarah, who quickly turned talkative when she felt comfortable. Rather Caitlyn seemed to be a woman who saved up her words and used them only when she felt she had something to contribute to the conversation. “Gideon still has contacts over there.”

  Meredith couldn’t wrap her head around the horrors he’d been through. Losing his entire team like that. The poor guy.

  “Anyone for more wine?” Emma chirped, but her voice was falsely cheerful.

  A few women had their wineglasses topped off.

  “If he’s such a great catch, why isn’t Hutch married?” Meredith asked.

  “He proposed to a woman once,” Caitlyn said. “But she rejected him because of Ashley. Whenever Ashley felt like Hutch was ignoring her in favor of spending time with his girl, she’d fly into jealous rages. Once Ashley broke into his girlfriend’s apartment and cut up all her clothes. It was too much for the woman, and of course Hutch wouldn’t turn his back on his sister.”

  “Hutch has had such a rough time of it with his mother and sister. The man is a saint to put up with all he’s put up with,” Flynn said.

  Intrigued, Meredith leaned forward. “What’s he put up with?”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Emma popped a cookie into her mouth.

  “He told me that Ashley has an emotional disorder.

  “His mother had it too. She hung herself when Hutch was sixteen, and he was the one who found her.” Emma looked stricken. “He and Ashley ended up in separate foster homes and that boy moved heaven and earth to get himself declared an emancipated minor so he could be allowed to take care of her.”

  Meredith put a hand to her throat. “That’s horrible. What about Hutch’s father?”

  Flynn shook her head. “His father was never in the picture. Just like Kimmie’s father.”

  “It’s sad.” Sarah sighed. “How the family dynamics can play out from one generation to the next.”

  “Hutch didn’t have a childhood,” Flynn continued. “Despite being one of the most handsome guys in town, he never had a girlfriend in high school. He had too much responsibility heaped on him way too soon.”

  “It’s not fair,” Sarah said. “The poor man can’t even throw a penny into the Sweetheart Fountain and wish to be reunited with his high school sweetheart because he didn’t have one.”

  Puzzled Meredith frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Sarah blinked, wide eyes incredulous. “You haven’t heard about the sweetheart legend?”

  “No.”
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  Flynn bit the head off a gingerbread man, chewed thoughtfully, and then said, “We’ve been remiss.”

  “I can’t believe no one told you about the sweetheart legend.” Sarah seemed troubled by this. “Didn’t you notice the Sweetheart Fountain in Sweetheart Park?”

  “I haven’t been to the park.” She’d been too busy working and trying to lie low.

  Emma glanced around at the other women. “Who wants to do the honors and tell Jane about the legend?”

  “Let Flynn tell it,” Sarah said. “She was the first of our generation to be reunited with her high school sweetheart.”

  Flynn set her plate down and eagerly rubbed her palms together, her eyes aglow as she launched into the story. “It started with Jon Grant and Rebekka Nash, who were teenagers torn apart by the Civil War. Jon was a Union soldier, Rebekka a Southern belle. Although their love appeared forever doomed, they never stopped thinking about each other. Fifteen years later, they met on the banks of the Brazos River where the town of Twilight now stands. This was before they dammed up the river and transformed it into Lake Twilight. Neither had married, nor did they know that the other had moved to Texas. With that one look, they rekindled their romance. The Sweetheart Fountain was erected as a tribute to their undying love.”

  “And so,” Emma interjected, “the legend was born that if you throw a coin into the fountain, you’ll be reunited with your teenage love.”

  Meredith glanced around at the roomful of women, and they all looked so serious that she burst out laughing.

  No one else did.

  “You guys are pulling my leg. You all can’t seriously believe this legend.”

  “Scoff if you want,” Flynn said, “but every single one of us in this room ended up marrying our high school sweethearts after years of separation, and all of us threw coins in the fountains and made the wish.”

  “You’re joking. Every single one of you?”

  The dozen women in the room raised their hands.

  “It’s the same in there.” Flynn jerked a thumb in the direction of the kitchen, where the older women had gathered.

  “But legends aren’t real,” Meredith insisted. “Or they are a gross exaggeration of an actual event.”

  Sarah held up her palms as if presenting Meredith with the Ten Commandments stone tablet. “Tell Jon and Rebekka that.”

  “It must be a self-fulfilling prophecy. You believe and you go looking to make things happen with your high school sweetheart and it does.”

  Flynn shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But we believe.”

  This was just wacky, but she was a guest, so she didn’t point that out. “What happens to people like me and Hutch who didn’t have high school sweethearts?”

  “Aww.” Emma pressed her palms together and rested them against her cheek in a gesture that said, That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. “You didn’t have a sweetheart in high school either?”

  “No.”

  “How come? You’re so pretty with that pale skin and those intriguing dark blue eyes.” Emma slapped a palm over her mouth. “I’m being too nosy. Ignore that.”

  “I was homeschooled. My parents were hot air balloonists. That’s how they made their living, and we traveled around the country, attending festivals and fairs.”

  Emma’s eyes lit up. “How fun!”

  “It was different and fun, yes, at times, but life on the road has its drawbacks. It can get weary and you have to be pretty independent. No family and friends to rely on.” While leading the gypsy lifestyle had been a challenge, ultimately it had prepared her for life on the run.

  “Wow,” Flynn said. “I can’t imagine growing up without a strong community of friends and family.”

  “Well, balloonists are their own community, even if we are often on opposite sides of the country from our friends. It’s the only life I knew until my parents were killed in a ballooning accident when I was sixteen, and I went to live with my grandmother. Then she got sick and I nursed her until she died.” Meredith rushed through the story to get it over with. Why was she telling them all this? They were sucking her into their world.

  Sarah leaned over to pat Meredith’s hand. “You and Hutch have so much in common.”

  Yes, no high school sweethearts, dead parents at a young age, too much responsibility on their shoulders too soon. Meredith took another sip of wine to keep from thinking about it.

  “Is Ben’s father still in the picture?” A matchmaker gleam came into Flynn’s eyes.

  “Ben’s father is dead,” Meredith said flatly. It was what she told everyone, and she didn’t consider it a lie. Because the man she thought she’d married was not the man she believed him to be. The charming guy who’d swept her off her feet just weeks after her grandmother’s death was a monster. She couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about him. After all, Sloane had killed the only person who knew her secret, and he would kill again if it served his twisted purposes.

  “You know.” Sarah’s eyes twinkled. “There’s another Twilight legend that works for people who didn’t have a high school sweetheart.”

  Meredith laughed again. The legend might be nutty, but it had drawn a laugh out of her twice tonight. That was something. “I’m good. I don’t need a sweetheart, high school or otherwise.”

  “Everyone needs love,” Emma said.

  “I’ve got love. I have the most awesome four-year-old son.”

  “Ben is an amazing kid,” Flynn agreed. “But a woman has other needs.”

  “You don’t have to believe it,” Sarah interjected, “but can I at least tell you my story?”

  “You guys are incorrigible.” What the heck. Maybe she’d get a laugh out of this legend too. “But go ahead.”

  “Technically, I wasn’t Travis’s high school sweetheart.” Sarah said it like she’d broken some kind of cardinal sweetheart rule. “I had a crush on him, but he treated me like a kid sister.”

  “What worked for you?” Meredith asked, playing along.

  “The legend of the kismet cookie.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  Sarah wriggled in her seat. “If you sleep with a kismet cookie under your pillow on Christmas Eve, you’ll dream of your one true love. It works. Every year that I slept with a kismet cookie under my pillow from the time I was a teenager to the year Travis and I got together, I dreamed of him. I’ve got the recipe on me if you’d like to try it.”

  “Are there any kismet cookies here?” Meredith asked to humor her. “I’d like to try one.”

  “Oh, you’ll need to make a fresh batch for Christmas Eve. You don’t want a stale cookie for this, but yes.” She plucked a cookie off Meredith’s plate. “This is the kismet cookie.”

  “Mmm. Okay. What happens if you dream of someone you don’t like?”

  “You won’t,” Sarah said with the assured zeal of true believer.

  Meredith nibbled the kismet cookie, tasted oatmeal, coconut, cranberries, white chocolate, and macadamia nuts. It was one of the kitchen-sink-style cookies, but it was delicious, and she said so.

  “My grandmother’s recipe.” Sarah’s chest puffed with pride and she reached into the pocket of her sweater, extracted a stack of laminated index cards with the recipe for kismet cookies printed on them, and passed a card to Meredith. “Try it. If nothing else, you’ll get a batch of cookies everyone will rave about.”

  “Thanks.” Meredith tucked the card in her purse. Kimmie and Ben would have fun making the cookies on Christmas Eve. “I really do want to thank you all for a lovely evening. It was good to get out of the house.”

  “Aww,” Emma said. “Do you have to go already?”

  “It’s eight-thirty.” Meredith nodded to the clock over the mantel.

  “Oh my, it is,” one of the other women said, and jumped up from her chair.

  That broke up the party. Meredith went to find Raylene and thank her for inviting her. When she threaded her way back through the living room, most of the younger women were gath
ering up cookie tins, putting on coats, hugging each other, and saying good night.

  All except for Caitlyn Garza, who was still seated on the sectional. But as soon as she spied Meredith, she got up and came over.

  “Could I speak to you a moment?” Caitlyn murmured.

  Meredith hesitated. “Mmm, I really need to be getting back.”

  “This is something you should hear.” Caitlyn’s tone was serious.

  “Okay.” Heart thumping, Meredith followed Caitlyn to an out-of-the-way corner of the room.

  Caitlyn pressed her lips together, drummed her fingertips on her chin. “Listen, everyone loves Hutch and he was a great guy and if you’re romantically inclined in his direction, I don’t want to scare you off but—”

  “I’m not.” Meredith shook her head rapidly. “Romantically inclined.”

  “Are you sure? Twilight has a way of romanticizing love and this whole bunch is matchmaker crazy. It would be so easy to get caught up in their enthusiasm.”

  “You said Hutch was a good guy instead of is a good guy. What do you mean by that?”

  “Here’s the thing. He’s not going to be the same guy that he used to be. The guy we knew is gone. And it remains to be seen if this new Hutch is better or worse than the old Hutch.”

  Meredith gulped, thought of Hutch’s busted knuckles and how she’d let it go without demanding an explanation. “Are you telling me he could be violent?”

  “He was in special ops, but those guys are known for their self-control, so even if he has changed, I don’t think he could ever harm you.”

  “You don’t think he could, but the possibility exists.” Icicles of fear froze her blood.

  Caitlyn blew out her breath. “Let me tell you what happened to me. My husband, Gideon, was in the Middle East for a long time and it changed him. We had a rough go of it when he first came back. Even if you’re not interested in Hutch romantically, if you’re going to live in the same house with him, there’s some things you need to know about the veterans coming back from over there, particularly the ones who were wounded.”